


Polished

by washmylove



Series: A Simple Kind of Life [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 17:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16123517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/washmylove/pseuds/washmylove
Summary: Domestic fluff with Despy and Hiromu..Have you ever noticed how Despy's nails always look like crap? It doesn't have to be that way babe!





	Polished

The sound of the door closing echoed throughout the apartment, passing through thin walls like nothing was there. The thud of a gym bag being dropped followed by uneven footsteps. The low mumbling of curse words at a strap tangled in feet and finally a definitive crash as the bag was kicked aside. A sigh, and silence.

Desperado didn’t move a muscle, his focus could not be broken.

A shadow came around the corner and cast his workspace into dusk. He shifted on the edge of the sofa, trying to recapture the light. His tongue flicked between his lips and his brows furrowed in concentration, but he did not look up.

“Despy, my god, what are you doing?!” A soft voice cooed disbelievingly.

He sat, hunched over, struggling to keep his left hand steady while coloring in the opposing nails. This had been part of his gimmick for years, _why hasn’t my non-dominant hand become a little more proficient_ he wondered with a curse.

“Is that, is that White-Out?!”

Desperado wordlessly shrugged, and set the pen down with a sigh, defeated in more ways than one. It was all he had been able to find. He picked up the half-empty highball can from the coffee table, took a swig and grimaced

He heard the _tsk tsk tsk_ of Hiromu and looked up just in time to see the slight figure disappear down the hallway into the bathroom. He heard the clatter of drawers opening and closing until the man returned, triumphantly producing a container of cotton balls, nail polish remover, and pure white polish.

Hiromu scattered the coffee table detritus with a dramatic sweep of his arm and dropped himself down with a huff. He looked at Desperado quizzically, head cocked to the side, and shook off whatever thought he had with a smile. Desperado rolled his eyes and mouthed a short-lived protest as Hiromu clicked his tongue disapprovingly, turning Desperado's hand over and over, inspecting what he had to work with.

The acetone burned bitter at Desperado’s chewed cuticles. _A nervous habit I ought to break_ , he thought. Hiromu pressed the pad of his thumb to quell the sting. Slight pressure and the messy white streaks gradually melted away

Hiromu shifted from the edge of the coffee table to the opposite side of the sofa, settling in to make himself comfortable, still holding Desperado’s right hand. He sat cross-legged, his back toward the armrest but leaning forward attentively. A lock of red tinged hair fell across his face, he exhaled deeply in an attempt to force it out of view but it stayed striped across his face. He batted his eyelashes at Desperado and looked up at him innocently.

Desperado reached out with his bare left hand, brushing the hair from Hiromu’s vision and tucking it behind his ear. He kept the heel of his hand softly against the other man’s jaw, thumb gently tracing over his high cheek bone. Hiromu nuzzled into the press of his palm like a cat, twisting his head back to gently kiss the calloused skin. Hiromu paused there, eyes closed, as a sly smile crept across his wide face.

A shiver ran through Hiromu’s body, he shook it off and blinked his eyes open like awaking from a dream. Desperado still sat unmoving next to him, eyes focused on every movement Hiromu made, memorizing them, savoring them.

“Now where was I?” Hiromu muttered to the ether. He let go of Desperado’s hand briefly so he could find the grip necessary to open the dry, crusted bottle of nail polish he’d procured from the depths of the bathroom. It was half empty, but it would do. He gave it a perfunctory shake, and twisted it open with a quiet grunt. He delicately took Desperado’s hand back, holding it ever so slightly flexed, long, thick fingers angled down.

Hiromu painted the nails with slow, deliberate strokes, one after another. Opaque white polish obscured the bruises and smoothed the dents beneath. He looked down critically, using his own nail to clear a smudge from the ragged skin.

Hiromu nodded, pleased with himself, and drew the hand near his face, blowing softly between pursed lips, a thin stream of air weaving back and forth across Desperado’s fingertips.

Desperado shivered, every muscle in his body awakening to the stimulus. He licked his lips and tried to speak, voice low and cracking.

“Shhh Despy, you need another coat.”

**Author's Note:**

> In the early stages of writing a very different Desperado/Hiromu fic I couldn't get down to the nitty gritty of what those characters can be because there is also just so much sweetness I want to write about them. I hope you enjoy!


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